Catarina's Ring

by Lisa McGuinness

  A ripple ran through her stomach. She wanted to ask him more about his feelings, but just then Odessa and Antonello arrived.

  “Benvenuto!” she said, putting aside her sudden apprehension as she opened the door and ushered them in.

  “Roman, you know Odessa and this is Antonello.”

  “Of course, Odessa,” he said kissing her cheeks, “it’s nice to see you. And Antonello, nice to meet you,” Roman said, while Juliette also gave each of them a kiss on the cheek.

  “Your apartment is charming,” Odessa said. “You have made it feel like a home.”

  “Grazie. It’s small but perfect for me.”

  “And how much longer do we get to have you in Italy?” asked Antonello, as she handed them each a glass of wine and brought out some antipasti to snack on before dinner.

  “We were just talking about that,” Juliette answered. “Six weeks, unless I decide to stay on longer.”

  Odessa smiled. “I would love to have you stay, Juliette.”

  Juliette said, “I’ve grown so attached to Lucca.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve grown attached to more than just our fair city,” Odessa said with a nod toward Roman, who Juliette noticed looked a bit uneasy with the direction of the conversation.

  “I think we’re frightening him,” Juliette laughed and changed the subject. “Odessa,” she said, “I’m using some of your delicious mascarpone cheese in the walnut sauce. I tasted it, and the flavor is heaven.”

  “I noticed it looked a little bit drier than mascarpone is usually,” Roman commented, suddenly distracted as if he couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Juliette was stunned. Criticizing wasn’t like him. Was he serious? She wondered if she was missing a subtlety of the language as she sometimes still did.

  But Antonello came to the rescue when he said with a laugh, “Ah, Odessa, it looks like you have a critic. But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll show him what an artist you are when he tastes it.” Then he turned to Juliette and asked, “What is it that you Americans say? ‘The proof is in the pudding?’ I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” he winked.

  Juliette laughed too. She was grateful for Antonello. He lightened the strange mood Roman was suddenly in. She was further grateful to Odessa and Antonello as they proceeded to regale them all with humorous stories and witty anecdotes that kept the evening light.

  Roman, on the other hand, wasn’t acting like the man she’d come to know. He joined in the conversation and laughed at their comments, but Juliette picked up on a shift in him with a sense of unease.

  When the evening was over, the door had no sooner latched behind Odessa and Antonello than Juliette turned to Roman. “Is everything all right?”

  “What do you mean?” Roman turned from clearing the dessert dishes from the table.

  “You just seemed more quiet than usual. Don’t you like Odessa and Antonello?”

  “I like them very much. It was especially nice to get to know Odessa better after years of knowing her more as an acquaintance.”

  “Well that’s good. So, there’s nothing wrong?”

  “Nothing at all, Juliette.” He smiled and pulled her to him. He kissed her lips and her neck and then turned back towards the cluttered table. “Unfortunately I have to go home after we clean up, though. I’m expecting a call.”

  “A call? This late on a Saturday night?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. My mother said she needs to talk to me about something and insisted that I call her when I get home.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “No. She just gets this way sometimes.”

  “Too bad,” she turned back towards him. “I had some plans for you later.”

  Roman laughed and kissed her again. “I guess those plans will have to wait for now,” he said and gently pinched her chin before leaving.

  Juliette leaned against the closed door after he left, furrow lines between her eyebrows. Something was off, she thought. She didn’t like the chill she suddenly felt deep in her bones.

  Chapter 15

  CATARINA, THE JOYS OF TAKING BATHS WITH INDOOR PLUMBING, AND AN ITALIAN LANDSCAPE PAINTING

  Catarina and Franco walked into the most ornate building she had ever been in. The hotel’s architecture was her vision of a palace, with high stamped-plaster ceilings, carpeted floors, and fabric-covered walls. She couldn’t stop herself from gaping. Franco left her sitting in a beautiful, velvet-covered chair with her belongings while he talked with the man at the front desk. He returned with two keys and a porter to take her luggage. They had rooms across the hall from each other. Catarina’s room had a green carpet with entwined roses patterned around the border. The walls were the palest pink. She felt like a princess in a jewel box. Before he left her alone to freshen up, he showed her how the plumbing worked, helping her to draw a bath. It was the first one she had ever taken that didn’t involve filling pot after pot of water that had been heated on the stove.

  He instructed her to lock the door behind him as he left, and told her that he would knock again for her in two hours, so she could have a bath and a nap before they went out for dinner.

  After he left, she undressed and carefully hung her clothes on real hangers instead of pegs. As she walked across the room to the bathroom, she could feel her feet sink into the carpeting—a sensation she had never experienced. She climbed into the bathtub and sank under the water. The hot liquid embraced her in warmth and calm and she felt the tension she had stored inside her release. She allowed herself to let down her guard and before she knew it tears were streaming down her cheeks. She hadn’t realized just how exhausted she had been. She was worlds away from her family, and unexpectedly feeling the full force of a love she had had to give up. She had been afraid of being turned back while going through the immigration process while secretly almost hoping it would happen. After all, if she was unfit to immigrate, then going back and being with Gregorio would have been in the realm of possibility. But then the face of Senior Carlucci flashed in her mind and she shivered with disgust. Going home wasn’t an option.

  But she had made it through, and now here she was. In this iron thing called a bathtub, in a hotel in New York City in the United States of America. She knew her life would never be the same.

  While Franco was not as handsome as Gregorio, she did like the way he took charge and was considerate. She felt safe with him. After almost two weeks of depending on herself, it was nice to have someone look out for her. She knew at seventeen she should be strong, but sometimes she wished she could go back to being a child, eating a pear just plucked from a tree in her own garden.

  Catarina looked at the sparkling diamond ring on her finger. Her hand looked like a grown woman’s hand. The ring was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she couldn’t believe it had been given to her. She would take strength from it from now on.

  Catarina shampooed her hair and scrubbed herself clean. It was the best she had felt since she left Italy. The soap was more fine and the suds more silky than any she had used before. And the scent was fresh. Like milk and honey.

  Before slipping into the water, she had taken a look at herself in the mirror and was dismayed by how disheveled she was. Her face was shiny, she had a smudge of something on her cheek and her wavy hair was looking decidedly rumpled. She hoped Franco hadn’t been disappointed.

  Once the water became tepid, she got out of the tub and dried off. She was determined to make herself look beautiful for their first dinner together, but before that, she wanted to lie down and rest for just a few minutes. She put on her nightgown and slipped between the sheets. She could hear unfamiliar sounds outside the hotel; people speaking in an unfamiliar language. The sounds rushed around her and she closed her eyes.

  There was a loud knocking at the door in what seemed like an instant later. Her heart hammered in her chest as she realized that she had fallen completely asleep. How long had it been? She didn’t know, but based on the change in light, she saw that the
day had turned to evening.

  She jumped out of bed, opened the door a crack, and was met with Franco’s worried face.

  “Oh, mio Dio! Thank God you’re in there. I have been knocking and knocking and when there was no answer, I was afraid you’d left the hotel.”

  When Catarina saw that it was Franco, she opened the door further.

  “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

  “It’s ok.” He put his hand to his chest and breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you were exhausted. When I arrived here for the first time . . .” then his voice stumbled because he realized she was standing in just a thin night shirt and he could see the outline of her body clearly. He tried to look away before she noticed his embarrassment, but then she realized what state she was in and turned red.

  “Excuse me! I’m sorry,” she stumbled over her words and moved behind the door.

  “Yes, well. I’ll wait for you downstairs in the lobby,” Franco stammered. “When you’re dressed and ready, come meet me and we can go to dinner.”

  “Grazie. I’ll be right down,” Catarina said, then closed and locked the door again. Her face felt hot. She looked at herself in the mirror. This time she was clean, but her curly, dark brown hair had dried while she slept and was now in a mass of uncontrolled waves around her head. She splashed water on her face and cleaned her teeth, then opened her suitcase and got out her best dress. The blue fabric looked faded and tattered to her eye and one of the sleeves had lost a button. Fortunately, the rounded pearl button served no purpose except for ornament, so the three-quarter-length sleeves were still nicely fitted to her forearms. She shook it out in order to get rid of the worst wrinkles, wishing she had something new and fresh to wear, but everything she owned had been worn aboard the ship and washed out in a basin several times over. She slipped it on, brushed her untamed hair, then pinned it back at the nape of her neck. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to add color to her face. Slipping on her shoes, she took the small purse her father had given her, and locked the door behind her.

  She walked down the stairs. Finding her way to the lobby, she saw Franco standing by a window, waiting for her. He was lost in thought. She stopped where she was, so she could look at her future husband while he was unaware. He had a wiry frame, and the looks of southern Italians, with almost-black hair and dark eyes. He seemed to have a certain elegance about him. A ready smile. A kind face.

  He must have been able to sense her there because he turned and his face lit up at the sight of her. He began to walk towards her. She met him halfway and he took her elbow.

  “Come, I’ll take you to the first restaurant I ate at when I arrived here. It’s in a section of town where many Italians live and the food will feel like home to you. I’m guessing you could use a little bit of that about now.”

  Catarina smiled at him. “Sono affamata,” she said. I’m famished, so that sounds perfect.

  As soon as they walked through the doors and into the city, Catarina was struck by the noise. It was a warm summer evening and there were more people out in the single block of the hotel than one would find in her town square during market day. Where were they all going? she wondered. And the buildings were incomprehensibly tall and majestic, like sentinels overlooking a kingdom. She was intrigued by the walkways, along which people could stroll. They were smooth, unlike the rutted dirt paths or cobblestones at home.

  Franco took her elbow and guided her to the restaurant, while she took in the sights around her.

  “I think you’ll like this one,” Franco told her. “Hearing Italian spoken and eating a plate of spaghetti helped me when I was a homesick boy.”

  “You didn’t want to leave Italy?”

  “No, I loved it there. But I was a child and had to go where my father chose. I ended up liking this country, though I still miss Italy sometimes.”

  Once they were settled at a table, she closed her eyes and inhaled, “Ummm, it smells like home here,” she said. “You know, I’ve never thought about food being specifically ‘Italian’ or anything else. It was just ‘food.’ But on the way here, I saw restaurants with menus that look different and some of the smells coming from the open doors were like nothing I’ve smelled before.”

  “Certo,” said Franco. “Here there are many things to eat—as many as the nationalities of people who have come.”

  “Have you tried many?”

  “Si, I like to try food from different cultures. We can do that together while we’re here if you want. This city has a great variety of everything. One of the most amazing places is Chinatown. It’s as different from Italy as you can imagine. Would you like to go there tomorrow?”

  “That sounds wonderful. I want to try lots of new things.” Catarina paused and thought back to the day by the well, when she told her friends about the marriage proposal. She thought back to her vision of America. “And is there much dancing here?” she asked. “I always thought there would be lots of dancing.”

  “I imagine we could find somewhere to go dancing. We could even go dancing this evening after dinner, if you want.”

  “Si,” Catarina smiled.

  “Bene. We’ll find somewhere to dance,” Franco smiled back. It was the least he could do for someone who had braved leaving home and family to start a life with him.

  He couldn’t help but assess her now that she was sitting at a table with him.

  Her eyes were intelligent and took in her surroundings with a sense of inquisitiveness, which is what had caught his attention so many years ago. She had become beautiful in the years since he had seen her, as he had suspected she would. But it wasn’t just that. The way her light blue eyes contrasted with her dark hair and olive skin was striking, and it was the spark in her eyes that made her stand out from other girls. He knew from experience that beauty attracted, but it was wit that kept him interested.

  Their conversation was easy and comfortable. He asked lots of questions about her family and about home and in turn told her about his family and what it was like in San Francisco. He described arriving in New York as a young boy and then traveling by train.

  “This time I’m looking forward to the trip,” he said. “It will give us a chance to get to know each other better before we marry. And I think you’ll be amazed by the countryside. It’s vast.”

  He reached out and took her hand.

  When he did, she hoped to feel an instant spark as she had with Gregorio, but was disappointed. But she liked him and that was a start.

  Franco asked the waiter if he knew where they could go dancing. He told them about a little café, still in the Italian section, called Delucca’s. If the mood was right, and the wine had been poured generously, they were likely to find dancing there.

  They decided to search it out. When they found it, they were met by the sound of musicians playing and a crowd of boisterous people spilling outside. The balmy evening invited lingering. There was a mix of Italian and English being spoken, and Franco thought it would be a fun way for them to spend their first evening together.

  He spontaneously took her hand and spun her around while they waited to get inside. He was rewarded with not only a seamless twirl but an unexpected smile. Franco had imagined she would be shy and he’d have to draw her out, but instead she was lively and easy to talk to, which pleased him.

  They inched their way in and were finally able to find a table. He ordered them each a lemonade, which they sipped while listening to the music. It was loud enough that conversation was difficult, so after a song or two Franco asked her if she’d like to dance. As they walked to the dance floor, Catarina was happy she had learned some steps on the ship.

  He took her in his arms and led her around the dance floor.

  “How did you learn to dance so well?” he asked.

  “Aboard ship we danced every night,” she told him, omitting whom exactly had given her the instructions. “Maria and I sat with the same gro
up of people during the voyage and we all took turns dancing. I didn’t know how at first, but I got a bit better after a while. It was great fun,” she said, turning her face away from Franco, lest he see the mixture of happiness and wistfulness cross her features.

  He moved back from her, spun her around, and she found herself laughing. She looked up at the man she was going to marry and felt a sense of unexpected peace. It would be ok after all. She tried to push all thoughts of Gregorio to the back of her mind. She stored them there for safekeeping, but she would try to love Franco instead.

  They danced until the café closed and then walked back to the hotel. Catarina was exhausted and kept envisioning the hotel bed. She could hardly wait to sink into its soft mattress and sleep.

  Franco walked her to the door of her room and waited with her until she opened it and was safely inside. Before she closed the door behind her though, he caught her hand and turned her back around. He smiled at her for a fleeting moment and then moved forward and softly kissed her lips.

  “Buona notte.”

  “Buona notte,” she said back to him. “See you in the morning.” And then she paused and added, “If you don’t mind, though, I would like to take another bath before I come down to breakfast.” The corners of her mouth turned up in a shy smile. “That was the most luxurious thing I’ve ever done.”

  Franco laughed. “Certo. After you’ve taken a bath, why don’t you knock on my door when you’re ready, and then we’ll go down to breakfast together.”

  “Fantastico, grazie,” she said and then turned again to go. Then she added, “Franco?”

  “Si?”

  “I had a wonderful evening. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he gave her a half smile, then turned and went into his own room.

  Catarina locked the door behind herself, then took off her dress and for the first time in her life, left it in a heap on the floor. She knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but she’d never been more tired. She didn’t bother even taking the tie out of her hair, she just climbed into bed in her slip and let sleep envelop her.